[RWBY] RWBY Shorts

[Gur40]

IF Penny Was Hacked By The Net

Spoiler: Atlasian Cybersecurity Fail

of after upgrades by Ruby &/or Whitley

---

Ruby asked Jaune help with Paperwork

Spoiler: needs a signiture

her team is a life time commitment so she might as well

---

if Adam was based

Spoiler: better cat

reminds me of team RW_Y replacing Blake with a cat named Better Blake

---

Jaune Core

Spoiler: or Sun or Ren or

Most the guys are sweethearts

---

everytime Jaune left alone with one of the girls

Spoiler: looks like something else

is it good or bad luck to be a harem protag?

---

Which is Winter Which is Whitley?

Spoiler: Weiss came out

Blake and Yang, Sun and Neptune, Ren and Nora?

 

[zMADLAXz]

This is something it always left a bad taste in my mouth, just transing characthers apper to me as lazy and creatively bankrun because more often than not the characther been transed just loose its original voice and become nothing more in the best case a INO and more often a barely funtional disguise for the author SI.

Click to shrink...

Ahhh no, it wasn't serious at all. Just mindless fun.

And yeah, a transitioned character is fundamentally different than their non transitioned self(otherwise there would have been no need for it) and I acknowledge that.

It was just a stupid joke woth Yang at the butt of it.

 

[Gur40]

Ahhh no, it wasn't serious at all. Just mindless fun.

And yeah, a transitioned character is fundamentally different than their non transitioned self(otherwise there would have been no need for it) and I acknowledge that.

It was just a stupid joke woth Yang at the butt of it.

Click to shrink...

Jaune Pringle Can turning into Pumpkins beating out Yang's Melons is funny,
And the years of sibling fighting triggering in Yang a blonde young girl getting stomped by Jaune going brother mode on her is hilarious

 

[Sliverhero]

Spoiler: Cinder and pyrrha swap clothes

Spoiler: Pyyha with jaune onesie

Spoiler: If jaune never deaged

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The jail cell was cold, poorly lit, and stank. Blake looked around her surroundings, then at the rest of her team.

"So... I... May have made a mistake," she admitted, "Possibly."

"That's the closest thing to an apology you can make, huh?" Yang quipped, as she held a trembling Ruby.

"I can't believe it... Arrested!" Ruby cried. "Arrested for trying to stop terrorists! I have a Hunter-In-Training license!"

"This is going to go on my permanent record," Weiss moaned, "I'll never become a Huntress, I'll never become CEO, I'll be disowned, and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!" She glared at Blake. Blake held up her hands.

"I... You didn't have to come after me!"

"You didn't HAVE to freak out over us finding out you were a terrorist!"

"FORMER TERRORIST!"

"Of an organization that KILLED MEMBERS OF MY FAMILY!" Weiss screeched. "I THINK I'M HANDLING THE SITUATION VERY WELL ALL THINGS CONSIDERED!"

"Well... WELL YOU'RE JUST RACIST!"

"YOUR ORGANIZATION WAS TRYING TO KILL ME! HOW IS RACE A FACTOR?!" Weiss demanded.

"BECAUSE THE SDC ENSLAVES FAUNUS!"

"I DIDN'T DO ANY OF THAT!"

"YOU PROFITED OFF IT!"

"SHUT UP!" Shouted an inmate from the other cell, a burly Faunus man with bear ears, a beard and a scowl, "Makin' too much noise, you underaged prostitutes!"

"We're not prostitutes!" Weiss cried.

"Yeah!" Ruby shrieked. "But I am underaged and oh no what if they think we're hookers we're DOOMED!"

"I'M NOT GOING TO JAIL FOR A PROSTITUTION CHARGE!" Weiss snarled at Blake. Blake shrugged.

"That's hardly the worst thing to be charged for."

"I already have a record, we'll be fine!" Yang insisted.

"YOU'RE ALREADY A HARDENED CRIMINAL!" Weiss yelped. She grabbed Ruby and yanked her away. "Don't listen to her Ruby! We'll get through this! We'll be fine! We won't go to prison! I'm rich! I'll buy our way out!"

"You will?!" Ruby gasped. "Only if you get Yang out too!"

"I'll try but she'll be tougher!"

"Oh no, I'm already too used to being behind bars," Yang joked, "I can't go outside again!"

"NOT FUNNY!" Weiss growled.

"What about me?" Blake demanded.

"YOU GOT US IN THIS MESS! YOU CAN ROT!"

"WHORE!"

"SKANK!"

A female officer came in, and cleared her throat. Weiss pulled back away from the bars, but Ruby moved forward eagerly.

"What's up?! What's happening?!"

"Your bail has been paid and your case was dismissed on grounds of you being Huntresses in training," she said, "The school will pay the fine and your friends are here to pick you up."

"Friends? Who?" Ruby asked eagerly.

Jaune walked out, and waved awkwardly.

"Uh, hey guys," he said.

"JAUNE?!" Everyone chorused.

Weiss scowled.

"This isn't an attempt to get me out on a date again, is it?"

"What? No!" Jaune said quickly, shaking his head. "Of course not!"

"Is it to get a date with me?" Yang asked with a grin,"Because you just won one!"

"Shameless strumpet," Weiss huffed.

"I'm being nice, damnit!"

The cell door opened and RWBY came out. They headed out to the clerk's desk, where Pyrrha, Nora and Ren were waiting. Nora beamed and hugged Ruby.

"Rubes! You're okay! Did you get a prison tattoo?"

"No!"

"Shucks! Guess we'll wait until next time!"

Weiss zeroed in on Pyrrha. She hugged her.

"Oh thank you Pyrrha! You provided the money to bail us out! I'm eternally grateful!" She gushed. Pyrrha coughed and smiled awkwardly.

"Oh, uh, no," she said, "Sorry, that was Jaune."

"Huh?" Yang, Ruby and Blake looked at Jaune in disbelief. Weiss raised an eyebrow.

"How much was it?" She demanded.

"Ohhh... That's not important," Jaune laughed nervously.

"150,000 Lien each," Ren blandly said. Weiss goggled. Blake's eyes widened. Yang's jaw dropped as Ruby gasped.

"That much?! Jaune, I-I-!"

"Now listen," Yang said quickly, "If you need us to repay you, I-I can do it! Don't make Ruby do anything! I'll handle it all!" She moved closer to Jaune. "I can do anything you need to repay you! Anything!"

"DON'T DEBASE YOURSELF!" Weiss screeched. "I'll handle this! I can cover it! You want a date, right? We can have dates! ... And money! I can give you money!"

"I... It's such a massive sacrifice to make, Jaune," Blake said, touched. "I don't know how I can repay you but... But I will! However I can!"

"Yeah!" Ruby cried, "I'll repay you forever! We're best friends forever!"

"Uhhh... It's not important," Jaune said quickly. "Not important at all! Let's go get ice cream, huh?"

"What?" Yang frowned. "Is your family loaded?"

"Did you have to make a sacrifice to your parents?" Blake asked, "Give up your dreams of becoming a Huntsman for the money?"

Jaune's eyes widened.

"Wait, I didn't-!"

"You would do that for us, Jaune?!" Ruby gasped, hugging him. She began to sob. "Oh Jaune! You-We're not worth that sacrifice-!"

"HE'S SO NOBLE!" Nora sobbed, hugging him tightly from the other side. Blake walked up and took his hands.

"I'm willing to make up for this in any erotic way you need me to, Jaune!"

"I made the offer first!" Yang growled.

Pyrrha twitched, but hid her smile.

Jaune shook his head rapidly, and held up his hands.

"No! Nonnono! Nothing like that! It's uh... It's just not important, eheh!"

"Why would it not be important?" Weiss demanded.

A police officer came up to Jaune and handed him a check with a smile.

"And here's your change, Mister Arc! This is quite the haul for a young bounty hunter like you!"

Silence fell. The clerk looked around, blinked, then shrugged.

"But uh... Maybe you shouldn't date the woman you brought in? I... Seems kind of dangerous-"

"He lives dangerously!" Nora insisted. The clerk blinked, then shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

The clerk walked off. All four members of RWBY stared intensely at Jaune. He coughed.

"Ahhhh..."

"Bounty hunter?" Yang prompted, her eyes red. Jaune held up his hands.

"Okay, short version; I took a four hour course to become a licensed bounty hunter because I thought it would help me with becoming a Hunter. I finished the course, got my license, and uh, came to Beacon... And because I called the cops about the situation with White Fang they gave me the money for Blake's bounty."

"My what?!" Blake gasped. Jaune nodded.

"Yup... And uh... I used it to pay your bail... Professor Ozpin did the rest..."

A beat of silence.

"How much was her bounty?" Ruby asked. Weiss snatched up the check and stared at it. She looked at Blake in disbelief.

"150,000 lien per... This much... WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!"

"Enough to get us out of jail?" Blake offered.

 

[ExFelineServer3]

Not going to lie, I think this would actually be interesting to see where things go.

 

[TheFabulousCustodes]

Team RWBY having their own cell because of the frequent hijinks would be pretty funny.

 

[Sliverhero]

Team RWBY having their own cell because the frequent hijinks would be pretty funny.

Click to shrink...

Then you have the other cell just watching the whole thing like the scene from macrom in the middle where fracis was in jail.

Spoiler: Drama

View: https://youtu.be/8ZEyXS81mKw?si=Lv3CRcJO8zeby7TQ

 

[Blackicefox]

Screw that I kind of interested in Jaune being a bit of a bounty hunter like maybe he had a family friend or an actual uncle who was a bounty hunter told them ropes and shit so he does have some training in combat it's just not usually on par with a hunter training and then he got the beacon and well the guy isn't a rank to maybe ask rank diamond in the rough if he's given actual training so I could see a new pretty well actually as a side gig okay this is very awkwardly worded but I haven't slept in like 36 hours so fuck it

 

[ThunderBasilisk]

Honestly it's probably an easier question to ask what she didn't do.

 

[Bommel]

"Your bail has been paid and your case was dismissed on grounds of you being Huntresses in training," she said, "The school will pay the fine and your friends are here to pick you up."

Click to shrink...

Paying bail always seems rather odd to me.
In Europe bail as a financial condition does exists, but it's rarely used, to the point that most people don't even know it's possible.
Mostly non-financial conditions are used such as having to surrender passports and travel documents similar things, and the proccesses largely focus on pre-trial release with strict supervision rather than monetary ransom, and if it is used it acts as a guarantee against fleeing rather than a way to "buy" temporary freedom.

 

[jgalue]

Paying bail always seems rather odd to me.
In Europe bail as a financial condition does exists, but it's rarely used, to the point that most people don't even know it's possible.
Mostly non-financial conditions are used such as having to surrender passports and travel documents similar things, and the proccesses largely focus on pre-trial release with strict supervision rather than monetary ransom, and if it is used it acts as a guarantee against fleeing rather than a way to "buy" temporary freedom.

Click to shrink...

Maybe it was less of a bail and more of a bill aka the cost of what team RWBY destroyed.

 

[Bommel]

Maybe it was less of a bail and more of a bill aka the cost of what team RWBY destroyed.

Click to shrink...

Yeah that makes sense, not just especially for Remnant as a world to have, but doubly especially for the city of Vale to have when it's near Beacon academy, where young teenagers with Aura and Firearms who are still training may hang out in their free time.

 

[CountvonBarnOwl]

Crossposted from SB -


I got a 3K word snippet for everybody. It lacks the level of polish that I usually aspire to (in my own estimation) especially near the beginning and the end.


But this is what I get for doing things without a proofreader.


Nevertheless, I find it increasingly important to try to do more on my own.


Anyway, what this is is a general prologue to all of my Cyber-Whitley ideas, which I am trying to dredge up the motivation to start writing again. Success has been very, very, very limited on that front. Nevertheless I like this idea and everything stemming from it in its raw form and want to get back to doing things with it.


But this is sort of a... prologue I wrote to clue people in. I don't like writing beginnings, you see. So I often skip them and go back in order to make myself feel the enthusiasm to write them. We all have parts that we enjoy or don't enjoy. Those bits of our work that we enjoy weaving just that either more or less.


That is not what I mean.


Because when I'm not writing after my own mercurial muse, I often end up feeling like I have to write things that I don't want to write. And that isn't me speaking to the necessary elements of a story that I feel that I must write in any case to make all of the fun bits attach to each other properly and come off as a coherent look into my inner world.


I mean things like, I can't write a story for a Remnant that has a total population above 400,000,000 people. I just don't see that. Nor do I see Grimm that can have their hides pierced by anything weaker than a 9.5mm H&H. And the bone should behave like the armor of early tanks. They've just got to be monsters worthy of sending Aura wielders after. Horrors against which no final victory can come. You don't win against a death world. The beauty of humanity comes forward in striving nevertheless.


I could try to write such things. Or for any Jaune ship that isn't my top two, or for one of my top two building a harem, but the product would be pure trash.


It isn't an issue opinion or preference at that point, it is artistic integrity and competence.


Funny, I say trash and then hack this up and then let it sit on my hard drive for two weeks before posting. Point is this not my best work and I am entirely aware of that. But I had to put something out if only for my own peace of mind. I know that probably makes me sound like a hack, I certainly feel like a hack.


But you all have indulged my prattling long enough.


Without further ado:

---

How it Happened – The Beginning of my Cyber-Whitley AU & all of its offshoots; Part 1


Though operating under appreciable stress, morale among the White Fang strike team only rose with every step. Every obstacle quietly surmounted, every lock quietly picked, every potential witness meticulously dodged or maneuvered around, every camera quickly hacked and replaced with a looping feed.



Silence was worth four hundred Lien a minute and nevertheless, Brother Onyx was barely able to hold himself back from bursting into song. Today, they would kill Jacques Schnee.



And Onyx himself had been charged with firing the opening shot. Brother Maroon and Sister Air were tasked with firing the follow-up and contingency shots. There was an all-hands-on-deck meeting between the SDC's highest officials today. Onyx himself hadn't known where the information had come from, operational security being what it was. He had only known that the officers in the White Fang's Solitas Branch, with confirmation from the High Leader herself, considered the intelligence actionable enough to mobilize a team.



Any minute now, the SDC chief executive's armored limousine would be making its way along this highway. It was not a direct, or likely route between places that the man would frequent, but knowing his own security measures, that, in Onyx's mind, only confirmed the likelihood of his presence.



Their position was set up in less than ten seconds. An eight-man fireteam consisting of three rockets, two perimeter guards, primary and secondary overwatch, and a communications and electronics officer coordinating had all been set up, clear from backblast, three floors below the rooftop, in a building currently undergoing renovations, where windows and walls were almost as uncommon as people, while the construction crew had all gone off to lunch, waiting to give the Animal God's justice to Jacques Schnee.


"Target spotted, ETA twenty seconds." Onyx readied his rocket launcher and took aim at the nearby section of highway that they had determined the range to from their position in the planning phase and calculated the time that he'd have to pre-fire by given the rocket's velocity.



"Ten, nine, eight, seven," the officer sounded off like a metronome. "Five, four," he continued. He had barely begun to say 'three' when Onyx pulled the trigger. Three a half seconds. That was Onyx's best guess. The distance between the point of launch and the target was a little over two seconds away at the rocket's normal velocity. But there was a delay for acceleration, another delay for Onyx's own brain to receive and act on the information, and the distance was as the crow flies, basic trigonometry indicated that the distance of the diagonal he was firing along was longer than that.



Onyx barely saw the long, dark blue limousine come into view behind the smoke trail of his rocket, but he heard the explosion.



The instant the smoke had dispersed, he saw the remains of an overturned limousine on the highway, its front end mangled in the way that a direct blow from a HEAT warhead could mangle a commercial market car, armored as it was.



"Good hit! Air, follow up on the midsection, Maroon, the gas tank." The officer called without missing a beat. The next two rockets slammed into the overturned vehicle, and even as smoke engulfed their position, Onyx saw the fireball that devoured the car.



There was a pause as the officer stood still, staring at his scroll, and another screen strapped to his wrist. "Evac route Cherry everyone. We are leaving."



Onyx was walking on air all through the retreat. There was no need for stealth, they could shoot as many human obstacles as got in their way and they made better time to the exfiltration point than they had coming from it. Within a few hours he'd be flying out of Solitas, watching the news confirm Jacques Schnee's death.



Somewhat earlier, the SDC parking lot -



Whitley Schnee did not let the exhaustion, the frustration, or anything else appear on his face as he made his way to across the fortified parking lot under the SDC headquarters.



Today's board meeting had been unproductive. None of the board members had so much as touched anything that wasn't considered a closed matter as of last week. Nevertheless, he knew he would be expected to make a productive report to the CEO when he got home.



He already knew how it would begin; 'Several members of the board behave inconsistently with previous patterns. Including those on which their employment was predicated.' Inculpatory enough of others that Jacques wouldn't suspect him being remiss in his duties, or failing to uphold his obligations. However, it was not paranoid, not like he was trying to distract the man.



Assuming today's traffic pattern remained consistent, Whitley was confident that he would be able to churn something out on his laptop denoting how the director, and officer positions at or above the regional level now had a higher statistical mortality rate than Level III+ mines and it may not be presently viable to adjust their hazard pay, insurance, and risk packages accordingly.



Whitley was positive he was not the only one making a report to Jacques. The directors and other departmental officers would be reporting to him too. Information was power. Information asymmetry was necessary for leadership to remain unquestioned. That was why Jacques wanted everybody checking up on everybody else. It kept everyone below him nervous, clumsy, and liable to further expose themselves to him. As the head of both the SDC's marketing and accounting departments, and first in line for CFO, Whitley knew that far better than most. It had been no different from growing up in the man's household.



Whitley entered his father's armored limousine and climbed into the citadel, the armored capsule that protected the frontmost three seats of the passenger compartment. Then he took the intercom and told the chauffeur to take him home. There was nearly zero delay. This chauffeur probably wandered around or fucked around on his scroll when the car wasn't moving, as much as the last one.



But this driver knew enough to minimize his own exposure. He, unlike his predecessor, understood how much of a risk he was taking, and that paycheck was only as big as it was because he wasn't expected to stick around and collect it for more than three years. Whitley dismissed the matter from his head, and got to work over his laptop.



Minutes later, from the corner of his eye, he saw a growing flash of orange light. There came a flash, that he did not just see, but he felt through his whole body, and Whitley Schnee knew only fire, and pain.



Agony stretched the sensation out toward eternity. However, naught but mere seconds could have been able to pass before the pain started to dim and blur at the edges. It began to fade, as if gradually falling into a pillow, as it was being held over Whitley's face.



So, Whitley fought. Truly, he fought. He tried to chase the spiderweb of searing sensations that his mind could perceive in an attempt to hold on, to stay lucid, to stay cognizant. For as long as he kept his mind, he kept his life. He thrashed; he flailed with all of the meager might that he thought he had. But the smothering sensation had been joined by a vice, constricting his windpipe, and tightening. And faster it tightened the tighter it got.



Until Whitley could no longer feel the tightening, he could no longer feel the suffocation, the burning, or the haze. He could only feel the fatigue of his strength spent. His brain commanded eyelids that were no longer there to close around sockets whose contents had burst from the heat of the initial explosion. It did not work. But it was good enough. Either way, Whitley saw only black. And he was too tired to care.



Then he felt nothing.



He couldn't tell how much time had passed when sensation returned to him. And what he could feel was difficult to describe. He felt like he was floating on water… no, cream… that was not it either. Milk perhaps? Whole and warm. And 'floating' was wrong too. It was more like, as he would later recount, 'sinking in reverse.' As though he was drifting down, as opposed to up, facing the bottom of whatever body of liquid that he was in and yet, the heavy fluid pooled above, or underneath him, as water rushes a swimmer out of the way in its journey to reach the lowest point possible, pushing him to the surface. That was the best comparison he could make.



This was the sensation that he felt for a brief interval up until the milk-water started to run thin, and when it felt almost as if he would break the surface/floor a bolt of pain seized Whitley up his spine and into the back of his head, the thunderclap of agony pulling him into further darkness.



Yet he remained cognizant. He could picture himself, hunched and curled up, perhaps on his side, though he couldn't feel his limbs, taste, the air or open his eyes. Any minute now, he would find out if he would be woken up by a group of scientists rousing him from a simulation, or if he had gone the way of every animated protagonist that he had ever seen, being personally introduced to the plots of their respective shows by the front bumper of a truck.



He really wasn't looking forward to what would inevitably come next in the latter case. But he did not discount the chance of a new family. Dare he hope that the next family would love him?



"Alright, all systems online. He should be responsive now." Whitley heard a comically Midgardian accent utter from higher up and perhaps to his left.



"Hmm… Simulation it is." Whitley thought to himself.



"I am afraid that it is no simulation, Herr Schnee." Whitley tried, and failed, to reorient himself in the direction where he thought the voice was coming from.



'You would pardon my incredulity.' Whitley thought again, this time to himself.



No response came after the pause. Whitley noted that. Until further testing, thoughts would emanate, for want of a better term, from him and into the aether until further testing could be done.



"Amzel! Did we lose him?!?" Came the raised shout of General James Ironwood. Whitley had never really met the man, but he had spoken to Jacques enough, and made enough public appearances that the Schnee scion could identify his voice.



"Nein, the brainwave monitor here displays that he is thinking to himself." Amzel, replied, again with an accent that sounded like a Valeman's impression of an Atlesian scientist with some particular derangement or another. Speaking with respect to a machine that Whitley could not see. "He is likely simply processing his circumstances."



"Regarding the same," Whitley thought/spoke "Where am I, and why are you able to read some of my thoughts? I understand that I am most likely blind and awaiting some prosthesis. But what I do not understand is how you are able to hear at least some of my thoughts."



"Ah, that is easy, young Whitley. Your injuries on the highway being critical, you were relocated to a life support unit in an aerial ambulance. Of course, you are no longer in a life support unit, as you have most likely deduced. After your resuscitation, your brain was relocated to a cybernetic cranial casing with integrated life support functions." Amzel continued.



'Cybernetic cranial casing?' Whitley wondered with a pit of dread pooling inside of the stomach that he admittedly no longer possessed. "Am I to understand that I am now just a brain in a jar?!" He asked in alarm.



"Wrong on all counts." Amzel replied. "Your C-spine also retained some level of integrity. And the remains of your C-1 through C-3 vertebrae remain attached and contained in a flexible armored appendix beneath the cranial unit. The unit's exact capabilities are military secrets which I am not at liberty to disclose until your enlistment is made official. You are also hooked up to my laptop and conversing with us via its audio input and output."



"Enlistment?" Whitley inquired, duplicating as best he could the raised tone that his father used when receiving information was not just unexpected, but also unpleasant.



"Well…" Amzel drew out. "There was a disagreement regarding exactly who would be paying for your prosthetics. Your sire decided to shirk his legal und natural obligations, and say that covering your exoframe should be society's problem."



"That is a complete misrepresentation of the conversation that took place between your superior and I, Lieutenant General!" Whitley heard his father add. Giving Whitley a better idea as to where the man stood in the command structure.



Whitley wasn't surprised. His father wouldn't spend any money he didn't need to spend. Being raised in the man's household, he saw the logic. Expending one's own effort and resources wasn't a logical thing to do when lesser expenditures could compel, by threat or by force, someone else to expend their own strength to your ends, which had the knock-on effect of preserving one's own stockpiles and treasure trove.



He wasn't surprised to find out how poorly his own well-being rated in the eyes of Jacques Schnee.



There should have been something there, some emotive reaction. He understood also that he should be feeling something besides the mildest of disappointments at being proven right. He knew he had limited value to his father. But for most of his life he had given himself the leeway of being a necessary expense in Jacques' eyes.



Something dark rumbled in Whitley's mind. 'That had been a mistake,' he admitted to himself. He had gotten comfortable, complacent, he had taken for granted the surety of his own footing in proximity to Jacques Schnee.



Fortunately, Whitley Schnee learned from his mistakes.



"Returning to the point, young Whitley," Amzel's address shook him from his ruminations. "Atlas will cover the cost of your prosthesis. But you will reimburse us."



"I take it through years of service rather than a financial arrangement," Whitley replied. Something, not quite tone, betraying what could have been lukewarm disappointment or impassive nonchalance.



"It isn't a state of affairs that I am exactly pleased with either, son." Jacques was trying to somehow paint himself as the aggrieved party in this matter, and further ingratiate himself with the person who suffered the actual injury in the same stroke… again. Whitley had watched the same thing play out a hundred-hundred times in the upper strata of Atlesian business and politics. But he had hardly ever seen it from this side of the equation.



"They were the ones who let you die, and yet they feel entitled to your service." Jacques continued.



'Wait… Die..!' Whitley thought with some trepidation. That particular truth paralyzing him where he was. The human mind is not made to truly contemplate or comprehend the cession of its own existence. 'When did I die? What part of what I felt was death? The fire or the floating?'



"Schnee!" Ironwood barked back at Jacques. "That is a complete mischaracterization of the situation…"



As Ironwood continued to berate his father, Whitley recalled Amzel's mention of resuscitation. "I suppose I really did die there for a while."



"You were clinically dead for exactly sixteen-point-eight-three-two seconds." Amzel clarified through his thick accent.



"Not brain-dead then," Whitley clarified. "Should I be aware of any cellular damage resulting from oxygen starvation?"



"Nein." Amzel clarified. "And once your father and his bodyguard give us the room, I will be able to discuss details of your situation in depth."



They did, sooner or later, as Whitley heard his genitor's torrent of accusations, admonishments, and deflections, as well as the head general's half-shouted own accusations and denials recede from the room before the door closed.



"Now that we are alone, I may explain to you what your duties will entail." Amzel explained. "You will serve as a test pilot for the latest generation of military cybernetic augmentations. To this end, you will be assigned the rank of Warrant Officer and placed under my command. It is exceedingly likely that I will assign you other tasks and command that you assist in other SCTC programs and cooperate with other SCTC personnel. You will, furthermore, be assigned to active combat operations at my discretion. If we need actual combat data, you will be the one out obtaining it. I will not be saying anything more until I have your verbal assent to this."



Whitley did not hesitate, "You have my assent, general." Even if the decision had not already been made when he was unresponsive, Whitley understood the shape of his options and prospects as a brain in a jar quite clearly.



"Good. Your father already signed your enlistment paperwork as your legal guardian. Consider yourself enlisted and under my command. I will soon be disconnecting you from the laptop, after which we will relocate to the Jotun complex where you will be given your posting and assignment. Tell me what, if anything, you experience in the interim."



Amzel did not even give Whitley the chance to respond before he felt something snap or cut. And then, Whitley felt alone, isolated, and that floating feeling, in a half-hunch or fetal position.



Rationally, he understood it was just his brain trying to process its new state of affairs while operating under complete sensory deprivation. But the analogues and allegories, for want of a better turn of phrase, gave the world around him shape and form.



He could feel his limbs, his body, drifting in the fetal position, under an endless black sea. Bother. He would probably be stuck like this without being plugged into any prosthetic. And for what was nothing near the first time in his life, Whitley Schnee found himself weighing whether he should try sleep, or remaining with his thoughts.



To be continued.

---

I hope you all enjoyed that, and I would appreciate any feedback that any of you have. And again, be as specific as possible.

 

[AndrewJTalon]

The weapons workshop was quieter than usual in the late afternoon. Jaune had stopped by to work on Crocea Mors, carefully oiling the blade and checking the mechanisms on the shield. He was so focused that he didn't notice anyone else until a familiar voice spoke up behind him.

"Jaune?"

He turned to see Velvet Scarlatina standing near the doorway, Mia perched happily on her hip. The little girl was swinging her legs and playing with one of Velvet's long ears.

"Velvet? Hey," Jaune said, surprised. "What are you doing here? And with Mia?"

Velvet gave him a small, slightly embarrassed smile. "Ruby called and said she was going to be late picking her up. I volunteered to grab her from daycare."

Jaune raised an eyebrow. "Ruby's late? That's not like her."

Velvet's ears twitched. "She and Coco have been spending a lot of time together lately. They've gotten… closer. Ruby really likes her-Especially given her Semblance can cause bigger explosions."

Jaune blinked, then smiled. "Huh. Good for them."

Though he'd probably need to watch out during the next training session.

Velvet nodded, then glanced down at Mia. "I thought I'd bring her here while I finished up a few things. Hope that's alright."

"Yeah, of course," Jaune said. He wiped his hands on a rag and stood up. "Mind if we head outside? I could use some fresh air."

They found a quiet spot in one of the smaller courtyards. Jaune sat on a stone bench and laid Crocea Mors across his lap, resuming his careful maintenance. Velvet sat beside him with Mia between them.

"You're taking good care of it," Velvet observed, watching him work.

Jaune nodded. "My great-grandfather reforged it before I left. I try to keep it in good shape."

Velvet smiled softly. "That's good. Weapons like that deserve to be looked after."

Mia, who had been quietly observing the conversation, suddenly perked up and looked at Velvet with wide eyes.

"Are you a Faunus too?" she asked. "Did you come from Menagerie like Auntie Blake?"

Velvet's ears twitched. For just a second, something sharp and angry flashed in her eyes — an old, familiar pain. But she quickly pushed it down and smiled warmly at Mia.

"No, I'm not from Menagerie," she said gently. "I was born here in Vale. My father is human… and my mother is a rabbit Faunus who came from Menagerie."

Mia tilted her head. "Really?"

Velvet nodded. Her voice grew quieter, and a faint Menagerian accent slipped through without her realizing. "They faced a lot of trouble for being together. Some people in the White Fang even tried to hurt them because my mother 'betrayed' her own kind by marrying a human."

Mia's eyes went wide. "That's mean!"

Velvet's expression softened. She reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair from Mia's face. "I'm sorry for telling you something so heavy, Mia. I shouldn't have-"

But Mia suddenly lit up with pure excitement.

"You're like me!" she said happily. "You're a grown-up rabbit me! And you're super nice!"

Velvet blinked, clearly caught off guard. A small, genuine smile broke across her face.

"…Thank you, Mia."

She looked over at Jaune, ears slightly lowered. "I'm sorry for venting like that. I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine," Jaune said quietly. He glanced at Mia, then nodded toward the open courtyard. "Hey, kitten. Why don't you go play for a bit? I'll be right here."

Mia nodded and hopped off the bench, running off with her toy sword to swing it at imaginary Grimm.

Velvet and Jaune watched her go in comfortable silence for a moment.

"She's an amazing little girl," Velvet said softly. "You've done an incredible job raising her."

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck. "My family did a lot of the heavy lifting, honestly. Especially when Katy…" He trailed off, then shook his head. "They were really supportive."

Velvet hesitated, then asked carefully, "Were they… okay with you marrying a Faunus?"

Jaune looked at her and grinned. "Katy was my childhood friend. Our families had been close for centuries. Nobody ever had a problem with it."

Velvet let out a small, wistful sigh. "That sounds like a wonderful place… and a wonderful family." Her ears drooped slightly. "My mother's family disowned her for marrying a human. My father's family has been welcoming, but things are often tense because he's from Atlas and... Well..."

Jaune was quiet for a second, then said, "If you ever want to visit Radian… I'm more than happy to take you there."

Velvet's cheeks flushed pink. She looked down at her hands. "I… I would like that."

Before either of them could say anything else, Mia came sprinting back over, out of breath and grinning.

She stopped right in front of Velvet, looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes, and blurted out:

"Would you like to give me a sibling with Papa?"

Velvet's entire face went bright red. She opened and closed her mouth several times, completely speechless.

Jaune let out a long, exhausted sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Kitten," he said tiredly, "no. I told you not to ask girls that anymore."

Mia pouted. "But she might want to!"

Jaune gave her a stern look. "No."

Mia crossed her arms and huffed, but didn't argue further. She simply turned and ran back off to play with her toy sword.

Velvet was still bright red, one hand covering her mouth as she tried (and failed) to regain her composure.

Jaune glanced at her and offered a small, apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. She's been… very determined lately."

Velvet let out a shaky laugh, still flustered. "It's… it's alright. She's very direct."

Jaune chuckled softly. "Yeah. That's one word for it."